Dark Shadows Fall
by Renshahi
Summary: As the Andurian Crisis exploded, elite warriors of the Free World League fought to bring the rebels back to the fold. The Dark Shadows Battalion, special Mech force of the League conducted raids deep into the traitorous Duchy. This is the story of how they fought, bled and died to keep the League together. Please leave reviews so I can know how folks like it!
1. Chapter 1

Dark Shadow's Fall

Chapter 1

Dropship _Cerberus _

Ward System

Jan 3, 3035

Staff Sergeant Ren Warson tried to sit comfortably in the the conference room's plastic backed seat. Traveling at over 1.5 standard G's everyone inside the Leopard Class ship was uncomfortable. It was a necessity, as was the pirate jump point the Jumpship captain had used to deliver them to the Capellan Ward system. The lack of natural gravity made the trip even worse, though again, it couldn't be helped. 20th Century science fiction, had made man dream of artificial gravity, and the long gone Star League had gotten close, but it was still a dream even to this day.

Despite the discomfort, Warson focused in on the Intelligence Officer and the latest information from the main planet, Ward. Warson's stocky frame and fit body could take the discomfort. His life depended on this information. Within 15 hours, he would be fighting for his life along with the rest of the Dark Shadows detachment he was part of. Like most of SAFE, the Dark Shadows Battalion would never be mentioned in the same breath as some of the other Successor States' more famous covert ops teams. Even so, the Mechwarriors and Commando's of the Dark Shadows were still some of the best warriors around. Hand picked from the FWLM, each soldier was expertly trained and committed to completing the most difficult of mission.

"Most of the defending units around the target are conducting raids into the FWL; However, we have been able to confirm that a lance of veteran mercenary Mechs are guarding the facility and warehouse." The Intelligence Officer, Major Kratic was a tall, bald man in his late 30's. Everyone in Warson's lance knew and respected the man. Though he had been away from battle in some time, Major Kratic and his analyst team always gave the best they could in providing the Mechwarriors the most accurate information possible. Warson's dark brown arm adjusted the seat belt of his chair as the Major continued.

"We suspect that this is a lance of Mechs belonging to a mercenary outfit called the Storm Guards. From what out collectors been able to identify about the unit, it used to be a lot large. The core leadership is all 4th Succession War veterans and they fought for the Capellans against the Andurian invasion for the last 5 years. The Lance you're likely going to square up against is the one unit left behind while the rest of the command off planet trying to rebuild their company. Expect them to be tenacious fighters and unlikely to surrender the facility.

"The most important factor is that the nearest population center is only 10 klicks away from the target. Remember, even a medium class laser can reach out to 20 kilometers, though we cant aim that far nowadays. And our goal is not to create mass civilian casualties. We want to punish the Liao, not give Romanano the excuse to retaliate future for the Andurian's invasion".

Everything the Major said was true. For the last 5 years, the Duchy of Andurian had been separated from the rest of the Free World League following the disastrous ending of the Fourth Succession War. Almost immediately, the Andurian separatists had struck out against their ancient foes in the Capellan Confederation. Through long battles and bloody days, the Andurians had been fought off by the defenders, and now the Free World League was getting ready to take the hard luck duchy back into its fold, willing or not. First though there was the Capellan problem to solve.

Though they repelled their Andurian attackers, the Capellans wanted revenge. Romano Liao, the almost certainly mad ruler of the Capellan government was already making noise and conducting light raids into the Duchy's territory, and that was something the Captain General of the Free World League could not allow. Of course, Romano Liao was a little too crazy to note the obvious fact that her battered realm was in no shape to fight off the entire League. Of course, no one wanted the FWLM to_ have_ to fight the Capellans when more than enough troops were going to die fighting for the Andurian Duchy.

To make matters worse, the current Captain General, Janos Marik was in a tenuous position himself. He was actually having his office filled by his son Thomas, a former acolyte of the quasi-religious Comstar communications agency due to illness. Thomas was filling in well enough for his father, however the Free World Parliament was being as difficult as always in allotting manpower to the war everyone knew was coming. Hence why the Dark Shadows were now dropping in on the Liao held world of Ward. The Shadows answered to the Captain General himself, never mind what Parliament wanted. Three other lances like Warson's were striking targets within the Capellan borders hoping to convince Romano Liao that the price of waging war was too high.

Major Kratic continued with his update, "The Dark Shadow's mission, along with detachments of more conventional Mech units is to strike at several key Capellan facilities. While none of the blows are supposed to be crippling to the Confederation, they should stress the point that the Duchy of Andurian is hands off." As the intelligence officer spoke Warson looked around the room at the rest of his lance and the infantry officer that was going to drop in support. Warson was glad to see Lt. Jefferson focused but not overwhelmed by the information. The tall black man copied down pertinent information and calmly waited for the slide the Major was briefing on to change. Many new lieutenants could overload their own brains trying to process their responsibilities and Warson was starting to appreciate the Lieutenant's poise. Like Warson himself, Jefferson was new to the Dark Shadows, but even the old hands were acknowledged his potential. As the Lance second, Warson had the additional responsibility of mentoring and guiding the Lt, and he was already feeling confident that the young man would develop well.

As Major Kratic finished his portion, the Lieutenant stood up and floated over to replace him. "Okay ladies and gents, it is t-14 hours until landfall. Remember, our 'Mechs will be be doing a combat drop to be fallowed by the infantry later from a HALO jump. We gotta get it right in one, cause nothing hurts more than landing on the hard, angry, angry rocks. Lt Marsden, I'll let you focus on your Infantry platoon's preparation. 'Mechwarriors, I'll expect to see you in the loading bays in 9 hrs.

"Once we've completed our preparations, we should have two hours to wait inside the drop pods for the Gorgon to entire its target zone. During that time, we will be dropping from orbit onto the southern continent of Ward. From there, we will proceed to the the warehouse the CCAF has used to prepare replacement parts for a sizable portion of their available Mech forces. Once we've secured the facility, the infantry will follow on, load up appropriate salvage and blow the remains of the facility. "

Lt Jefferson looked around the the expectant warriors. Everyone knew their jobs, Mechwarrior and Infantry both, but it was important to rehash the facts before everyone broke to their separate duties. Jefferson nodded to himself internally and concluded his litany. "Alright ladies, gents, lets get ready to pick a fight". The rest of the troops unbuckled themselves and floated off to inspect their Mechs, weapons or in Lt Marsden's case, to take a shuttle back to the infantry dropship and prepare his troops. Perhaps some would even get to catch some sleep in the next 14 hours.

Dropship _Cerberus_

Ward System

Jan 3, 3035

3 hrs to drop

Technicians and Mechwarriors were running around the Battlemechs inside the bowels of the dropship. Everyone was making final preparations for the drop and just about ready to wrap the 'Mechs inside their ablative shells for the orbital drop. Lt Jefferson looked over his Mechwarriors to see how their preparations were going. Everyone had their own rituals before battle, and Lt Jefferson had gotten to know them all in the few short months he had been leading his troops. SSgt Warson was inside the open cockpit of his Grasshopper, a 70 ton jumping beast and the heaviest Mech in the Lance. Heavy Metal screamed from inside the cockpit, what Warson called "mood music". The former scout was most likely going over the maps of the target in excruciating detail, wanting to know every inch of the battlefield.

In the next two bays, almost matching Hermes II reconnaissance Mechs were lined up. The mech nearest the Grasshopper was the traditional layout of the venerable 40 ton mech, armed with a medium auto-cannon, flamer and medium laser. It was a trusted scout among the Free World League, though somewhat under-gunned for a medium Mech. The Hermes next to it was something else all together. It was called a 'Mercury" model Hermes II and was specifically made for the Dark Shadows. Dropping the auto cannon, the Mercury had a increased engine letting it run over 100 KPH. It had dual stacked medium lasers and machine guns for a weapon load out and was absolutely wicked in close quarters.

The pilots for these two Mechs were almost as different as their respective mounts. The Hermes pilot was rapier thin and obsessively going over the inside of the Mech's auto cannon with a towel. Sergeant Demitri Polls was one of the few Andurians that had remained part of the Free World League when his Duchy had begun its succession. As was, the man was quarrelsome and liked to drink, but a loyal and damn fine pilot. He would probably never get past Sergeant, but he was content to fight for the League. The man had a fearsome scowl on his dark handsome features as he found some minute speck of dust inside the barrel of his Mech's main weapon.

In the bay next to him was the diminutive Sergeant Maria Cerllios. The small blond woman working next to her tech, making final adjustments to her targeting computer. Like SSgt Warson, Cerillios was scout trained, though Lt Jefferson had to admit that she was likely better at actual reconnaissance his second in command. Warson tended to like "recon by fire", while Cerillios was more than content to flutter between enemy formations to deliver the most up to date information. As they neared the objective, she would be piloting the Mercury class Hermes II and feeding information to her lance mates.

The Infantry supporting the Mech lance had already returned to their own dropship, the Intruder Class Gorgon. They would be making their own preparations and jump to support Jefferson's lance once the objective was secured. Already, the assault forces supporting Aerospace fighters were flying in advance of the two dropships, ready to battle against any Capellan force sent to intercept. It was almost time.

Climbing up to the cockpit of his 65 ton Thunderbolt, Lt Jefferson started his own last minute preparations. It was going to be a long, hard drop, but the Capellans were in for a rude surprise. Of course, before that, he had a long, dull two hour wait inside his mech. Sighing, he closed his Mech's hatch and began his wait.

Jan 4th, 3035

SSgt Warson looked out from the cockpit of his _Grasshopper _he had named _Warbeast_. The venerable Mech was his pride and joy, and all his. He had fought a long hard two years alongside a Liberation unit inside the Lyran Commonwealth for the Mech, but ultimately prevailed. During the course of the Succession Wars, a form of neo-feudalism had arose, and Mech ownership had become close to knighthood. Entire communities, like some of the villas back on Warson's home of Sierra existed by maintaining, fixing and serving the Mechwarrior and his multi-tonned mount. Not bad for a man who had started out as a dirty, grungy scout.

The last few hours had been exciting to say the least. Warson and the rest of the lance had completed their orbital drop in good order and quickly reformed. Since then, they had maneuvered across Ward's semi-arid landscape as covertly as possible. To add to the confusion, the infantry dropship, the Gorgon, had done a series of false drops across hundreds of miles. It was an old tactic, armies have done it for millennium, but it still worked. Eventually, the dropship would disgorge its cargo of special ops warriors and help the Mech lance secure the warehouse that was the objective of today's raid.

Hopefully, SSgt Warson mused, the subterfuge would work and most of the defenders in the area would be spread out looking for the attackers. One of the problems of interstellar warfare was that there were simply too many possible locations an attacking force could hit. That was why a single lance could wreck a disproportionate amount of damage that would have been unheard of back on old Terra. There were several high priority targets that the Capellans wanted to defend, and no way of knowing that it was the parts warehouse that was the objective of the raid. The small raiding force would need that element of confusion if they were going to pull it off.

"All clear in this sector," Cerllios's slightly accented voice called out. "5 Klicks left until the target". She had been moving a kilometer ahead of the rest of the lance, providing intelligence to the force. Sergeant Polls was moving around the center of the formation providing flank security. Thus far,they had avoided the Capellan infantry patrols, but Cerillios had detected what was likely a Mech unit or two several times. They had been able to avoid confrontation, but everyone was nervous.

Lt Jefferson responded to the scout using the unit's callsign, "Roger Reaper 4. Once we're two kicks out, hold your position until we're with you. Everyone hits it together."

The Mech lance maneuvered through what passed for a heavy forest on Ward. The local ecology was a strange mix of desert hills and scrubby forest that provided some concealment, but not much cover for the armored behemoths. Here and there there were patches of dense pine-like trees in the area, which the lance was gathering around now. If the pilots peered through their Mech's magnified sensors, they could just make out the roof tops of the the warehouse complex they were about to strike.

"Alright lady and gents, here we are", spoke to his assembled team. "last checks before we hit it. We're going in hard, target the base defenses and call in the grunts". We need to be in and-" Sergent Cerillios broke into the Lt's brief.

"Contact! Two signals approximately 3 Klicks to the South east. Im picking up a probable _Rifleman_ and _Shadow Hawk_." The advanced sensors of Cerllios's Mercury were more than capable of identifying the Mechs opposing them. It was probable that the enemy knew the Marik lance was there, but the far inferior sensor suites of those Mechs had most likely been unable to identify what they were facing. Either way, time was up for Reaper Lance.

"Alright team, that's it! Everyone advance! We'll take the facility before the other Mechs can get there and than use the buildings for cover. Lets go!" Lt JEfferson lead the way, kicking his Thunderbolt forward to its max speed of 60 KPH. Everyone else followed suite, with the two _Hermes _bringing up the rear. Now that the assault was on, it was time for the big boys to come out and play, leaving the lighter scout Mechs in support.

The four Mechs bursted though the tree cover towards the 5 buildings that made up the warehouse compound. Combined, the facilities held enough parts to provide a battalion worth of Mechs supplies to last over a year. In the grand scheme of things, it was minor, but it was one of 4 separate facilities being hit at the same time. Losing a regiment's worth of supplies in the matter of days would be a nasty reminded to the Capellans that the price of war with the Free World League was too high to pay.

SSgt Warson could see the other Mechs closing in on the compound but there were over a klick and a half away. They wouldn't be in range in time to stop Reaper Lance from reaching the compound. More importantly was the platoon of infantry in thinned skinned trucks guarding the site. 8 gun trucks were scattered around the buildings, armed with heavy machine guns. Most likely, several infantry squads were inside the building as well.

"We got the PBI", Sgt Cerillios's voice broke out over the radio.

"Careful Sergeant", Warson replied," watch out for any surprises."

Don't worry _Mi Amore, _ I'm faster than them any day". Cerillios was from an old hacienda in the Protectorate of Oriete. Like Warson, her world had a strong Hispanic background, though Warson couldn't actually speak Spanish to save his soul. Cerillios often teased him of it, and mildly flirted. Both were too professional to let any fraternization happen, but everyone knew there was an attraction.

True to her word, she pushed her _Mercury_ forward, followed by Sergeat Polls's _Hermes. _Warson and Jefferson added their Large Lasers and LRMs to the mix, but it was the smaller Mechs that were going to really put the hurt on the infantry. Sgt Polls opened up with his AC 5 and laser against the front of the nearest compound. Infantry inside were firing medium and heavy machine guns at the Mechs. The weapons opened up the walls of the building and the Hermes brought out every infantryman's fear...fire. His flamer poured burning fuel into the walls of the building, suffocating anyone who wasnt burned to death.

Cerillios was just as deadly to the gun trucks assembled outside. While they poured their weapons into the modified _Hermes_, none of them had the time to focus their weapons, which was the only real hope a conventional grunt had of downing the multi-tonned beast. She opened up with her Mech's Sperry Browning machine guns, the full metal jacketed slugs ripping into the vehicles. the crews inside two of the trucks, ten men in total were simply shredded by the the .50 Cal rounds. She followed up with her lasers and flamer against the other trucks. In a matter of moments, the two 40-tonners had snuffed out the lives of over thirty men.

She barely had time to revel in her victory when warning tones sounded from her Mech's computer. She first thought it was the two Medium Mechs closing in, but that wasnt the case. " This is Reaper 4, I got one, maybe two fusion engines warming up. No confirmation of -wait, got it, were looking at-"

"Pull back Reaper 3 &4, get some distance" The concern in Lt Jefferson's voice was clear. It was also too late. Just as he finished speaking, two large steel doors ripped open. A 80 ton monster strode from one, a _Victor. _It was followed by a clearly modified _Trebuchet_, armed with a PPC in its right arm. The Victor however was by far the clearer threat. Armed with a 20 Class Autocannon, it could strip the armor of almost any Mech in a single burst. And it was point blank with the two _Hermes IIs_.

Sgt Cerillios and Sgt Polls barely had time to respond before the beast was on them. Sgt Cerillios opened up with her medium lasers, melting two small pools in the Mechs armor. Sgt Polls kicked his Mech forward instead, moving around the _Trebuchet_ as it came out. The _Victor _faced the much smaller Cerillios was in, and opened fire with its massive weapon. The AC 20 sounded like a deep throated roar as the shells cratered the center of the _Hermes IIs.  
><em>Cerillios tried to keep her Mech standing, but it was a futile effort.

Warson could see from his position the sharp heat spike in the Mech, the clear sign of an engine being damaged. Just as quickly as it spiked, the engine shut down, preventing itself from erupting and annihilating the Mech. Without its engine providing power, the machine simply fell in on itself. Warson and Jefferson both turned their weapons on the 80 ton monster that snuffed the life out of Sgt Cerillios's Mech. Chances were, she had survived the death of her ride, adn the rest of the lance was going to ensure she had the best chance possible.

Warson's _Grasshopper_ dumped laser and missile fire into the _Victor_, followed by matching firepower by the _Thunderbolt. _The enemy Mech staggered under the damage,but remained standing. It turned the massive maw of its weapon towards them, but as it staggered, its shells flew over the shoulder of Jefferson's Mech's shoulder. Polls continued his fight against the _Trebuchet_, peeling armor from the Mechs rear and legs. The 50 Ton Mech ignored the relatively light damage of the scout mech and kicked into flanking speed, moving towards the heavy mechs of Reaper Lance. Even more troubling, the _Rifleman_ and _Shadow Hawk_ had moved into range, adding their own firepower to the mix.

Reaper Lance was getting into a tight situation. Already one Mech down, the enemy forces had a slight advantage on the other three warriors. Taking down the _Victor_ was the top priority for the Reapers if they were going to have a chance to win. Jefferson's Large lasers and 15 stack LRMS poured fire into the left side of the Mech, followed by the medium and heavy lasers of Warson's _Grasshopper_. He ignored the Trebuchet for the time being, content to let it fire him up with the PPC and dual stacked SRM-2's. The Particle cannon bit deep into the left arm of his mech, but the heavy armor withstood the punishment.

The _Victor_ was not as lucky. The combination of laser and missile fire was too much for the the armor of the enemy machine. Neither Jefferson or Warson would know which one of them did it, but its torso caved in on itself, followed by the sympathetic destruction of its' autocannon's shells. The 80 ton Mech staggered and quaked as it was torn apart from the inside. Warson couldnt tell if the pilot had a chance to eject or not.

"Warson, keep the 'bucket off of me, I need to support Polls against the other Mechs!" Jefferson moved forward, dumping fire into the 60 ton _Riflemen_. Now that he was close, he could see the Mech had removed its traditional large laser and AC/5 combination in each arm for AC 10's. It was a deadly one two punch the Mech had and it was dumping shells on the _Thunderbolt_. Polls had begun moving his Hermes II around the rear of the Mech, hoping to penetrate its thin rear armor.

The SSgt radio his confirmation and moved against the 50 ton Trebuchet, or 'bucket as some called it. It wasnt unusual for Mechs to house configurations that deviated from the manufacture standard. 300 years of almost continuous warfare had made innovation a necessity, and the Trebuchet's PPC was a deadly weapon. Warson could see jump jets added to the torso of the Mech, giving it the ability to maneuver quickly around the battlespace. At the moment, the mech staggered as over a ton of armor was peeled away by laser fire.

Jefferson was standing firm in the middle of the battlefield. Pouring fire into the enemy Mechs. He fired a quick squirt of machine gun fire from his Mech's left arm towards several infantry men moving towards the downed Hermes II. He would be dammed if some ground pounder would reach the possibly wounded Sgt inside. All of a sudden, his mech staggered forward as a horrific burst of fire tore into his rear.

Warson looked on as his commander's mech stumbled. The Trebuchet has chosen to ignore his Mech and fire at the Thunderbolt's fragile rear armor. The Particle Cannon tore into the Mech's armor, collapsing its LRM launcher. "keep 'em off of me Warson!" Jefferson regained control of his mech, returning fire against the Shadow Hawl.

The Trebuchet moved towards to grove of trees to the north of the compound. Warson followed the mech, blasting into it with his weapons. It was the Trebuchet's turn to stumble as its left hip actuator was fried by a large laser blast Warson moved in for the kill, following up with a kick from his 70 ton Mech. His armored foot caved in the side of the opposing Mechs knee, driving it to the ground.

As the Mech Fell, Wrson ripped into its rear armor with all five of his lasers, confident in his twenty-two heat sinks being able to manage the waste heat produced. The Trebuchet shuddered and died as its center torso was melted out. Warson turned, just in time for him to be horrified. Lt Jefferson was in serious trouble.

The Shadow Hawk and Rifleman continued to ignore the relatively minor firepower of Polls Hermes II, focusing their attacks on the Lieutenant's Mech instead. The AC 10 of the modified Rifleman cratered the armor of his Mech's left arm, followed by the medium laser of the Hawk. The beams deadly light ignited the machine gun ammuntion inside the 65 ton Mech's bays, causing a chain effect of destruction. As the Mech died around him, his automatic ejection system ignited, projecting the young Mechwarrior out. Warson looked on in horror as the Lt's seat carried him right into the to cripple LRM launcher that had twisted to rest directly in his filght path.

The 7-ton missile system barely budged as Lt Jefferson's seat crashed into it; however the Mechwarrior deflected off of the launcher. Warson cried out as he watched his friend, and his commander tumble off into the distance. He rushed forward, focusing his fire on the Hawk. "Polls, keep up the attack on their rear, but the _Shad_ is mine!"

Polls was nothing if not a skilled pilot. He rushed his Mech forward, firing his laser and AC into the now destroyed rear armor of the _Rifleman_. The Mech's right arm sagged as the support structure in the torso sagged under the onslaught. Following up his weapon's damage, Polls kicked the already damaged leg of the Mech. The Rifleman stumbled and fell as its hipped seized up.

Quickly reversing his Mech, Polls tried to make it to the cover of a small hill behind him. It was the right move, and he almost made it when the enemy _Shadow Haw_k turned from Warson and dumped Auto Cannon and laser fire into the smaller Mech. Polls slid and stumbled under the onslaught but carried on. He almost made it behind the hill when the Rifleman got back into play. It had taken a knee and reversed its remaining AC. A long torrent of fire ripped into the Hermes, igniting its remaining ammo.

"Ejecting!" Polls cried into his radio as his seat fired beneath him. Warson looked on has his ally sailed into the sky. It looked like a clean break, but he had a more pressing problem. Now, he was alone. Moving forward, he fired his weapons into the right arm of the _Hawk_. The _Rifleman_ turned its fire onto him, caving in the left torso of his mech. Warson was able to keep his balance as two of his four medium lasers failed.

This was getting dire. Two Mechs against one was never good odds, but Warson was confident he would win. Both of the enemy Mechs were limping from actuator hits to their legs. The last burst from the _Rifleman_ did its damage, but Warson was sure that the cannon had belched out its last few rounds. While his own Mech was badly damaged, most of his torso was unscathed and the _Grasshopper_ was well known as a 'zombie' Mech. It was time to show the Capellans just what the Dark Shadows could do when pressed.

Engaging his four jump jets, Warson sailed above the crippled _Rifleman_. The Mech tried to turn towards him, but hobbled as it was, it was going to take several critical, long seconds to bear its lasers against him. As he landed, the _Shadow Hawk_ turned its medium laser towards him. _  
><em>

Sparks leapt from the right arm as the _Hawk_ tried to fire point blank into the larger Mech. Warson gave a grim smile. His last attack had fired the controls for the weapon. "NOW YOU'RE MINE!" Warsons three remaining lasers cared deep into the enemy Mech. Before the Mech could respond, he raised his 70 ton Mech's leg, driving it into the remaining armor of the _Shadow Hawk's_ right knee. The Mech fell, struggled to rise, but Warson followed up his previous attack with another cruel kick, caving in the side of the Mech.

Warson moved around the downed Mech. Turning his weapons to the Rifleman, he fired away. The enemy pilot had to know that he wouldn't win. But Major Kratic's assessment of the opposition was proving correct. The pilot was not going to surrender, no matter what the price. Both Mechs stood firm, dumping fire into one another. Inevitably, the Rifleman fell, its gyro scrapped to the laser fire of Warson's Grasshopper.

As Warson looked out of his Mech's viewport, he could see the faint contrails of a passing dropship in the afternoon light. He was sure that was the the infantry finally making their HALO jump. Sure enough, his radio crackled to life. "Reaper Lance this is Hell Jumper Actual, what is your status"?

Warson keyed into his comms unit. "Hell Jumper, this is Reaper Two, site is secured, repeat site is secured. There are three friendly Epsilons at this time, one likely Whiskey." Epsilon and Whiskey were the code words for an ejected or wounded Mechwarrior. By saying those words, it seemed like Warson was condemning Jefferson to his fate.

He continued to look out of his viewport as some of the grunts became visible. He sighed internally. Sometimes it was hard to know if it was worth it. This battle, these deaths, the enemy pilots, their infantry, likely Lt Jefferson were all supposed to stop a larger war. But the only reason Reaper Lance was here at all was because the League wanted to fight an entirely different war instead. Warson didnt know the answer, but he did know that his place, his role was to be part of it. For good or ill.


	2. Chapter 2

Dark Shadow's Fall

Chapter 2

Wendingo

Atreus System

June 19 3035

Warson sat up from his bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He glanced at the alarm clock on the night stand. It was only 0430, a full hour before he had to get up, but he knew trying to go back to sleep was futile. While being able to wake up quickly was normally a blessing, once he was up, he was up. Sighing, Warson sat up, careful not to disturb his bed mate. Maria turned but otherwise remained still. Ren was still not sure about how he felt towards their relationship, he was technically her superior and they had avoided acting on their mutual attraction in the past. That all changed after the drop. The Drop. That's what all three of them called it. After Polls and Cerillios were picked up, it was a tense, somber mood on the dropship. Warson tried to comfort both of his fellow pilots over the death of their Lieutenant, despite his own grieving. Polls took it all in stride, like he always did. He was used to death in a way that Warson hoped he would never be.  
>Cerillios was quiet different. When Warson went to her quarters, she was clearly crying. What started as comforting became hugging, and hugging quickly moved on from there. It was healing for both, but Warson was unsettled afterwards.<p>

He realized it wasn't just Lt Jefferson's death that had affected her so much, it was that she had been kissed by death. Cerillios was an excellent pilot, but getting shot out of her Hermes had been the first time she had been so close to dying. The fact that she had to fight off several Capellan infantrymen after her Mech fell only made it worse. Back when he was a scout, he had been attached to a Special Forces unit that in turn was supporting a Liberation unit. The Fourth Succession War was in full roll, and it was not going well for the Free World League. Liberation Units were dispossed Mechwarriors or other ner'do'wells that were trained by the League to enter hostile terrain, break stuff and cause chaos. In return, these desperate men and women were promised any Mechs they could capture, or other riches. The Liberation Warson's team was supposed to meet up with had been causing the Lyrans no limit of grief.

Warson's mission to support them was almost over before it began. His 24 man team had jumped on the world and began maneuvering to meet the Liberation unit. There was no telling how long the enemy had been tracking their movements, but once most of the unit was in a open field, disaster struck. Two Warrior Helos flew over the horizon, opening their autocannons up before the platoon knew what was happening. Warson had just made the tree line on the other side, doing his duty as a point man. They shells thudded around his position, throwing him to the ground. He looked on in horror as his team was cut down in mere seconds.  
>A veteran sergeant, his intestines spilling from his shredded body, stood on one knee and lifted a SRM. Though he was dying, the man was going to do his duty to its last and squeezed the trigger. The two missiles leaped from their launcher, and homed in on one of the helicopters as it was making its missile missed high, but the other impacted the Warrior right in its tail sergeant's dying shot was also his greatest as the rotors exploded in a metal spray. The helicopter auto-gyrated down and crashed into the earth.<p>

Still lost in the past, Warson looked at the sleeping form of the younger Mechwarrior in his bed. He knew should would get past the pain and the shock. She would even get past the fear of her own death as well. It would take time, and while he could be there for her, he couldn't lead her to the solution. For him, it had been continuing the fight and getting payback. The fact that he got his beloved _Grasshopper,_ Warbeast during those brutal days was another salve to his soul. Cerillios would find her own way, Warson was confident of that.

For now, he had his own, more immediate problems. When the Lance had returned to Wendigo, the moon above the League's capital planet Atreus, they were allowed some R&R. Unfortunately, that was not going to be long, and Reaper Lance was in bad shape. More to the point, the whole Dark Shadows Battalion was in bad shape. The Dark Shadows on paper were supposed to be an reinforced battalion of 40 Mechs, 2 companies each of 120 special force infantry, 12 Aerospace fighters and supporting vehicles. The Fourth Succession War had been rough, resulting in more than a quarter of the elite combined arms unit being injured or killed. To make it worse, when Andurian succeeded, a significant number of troops, included a full platoon of infantry defected and returned to their native region.  
>Mechs themselves were actually easy to replace. Both Polls and Cerllios were given new machine to replace their old ones. In fact, because of their special force status, both got replacement models for the very Mechs they had lost. What was much harder to replace was pilots.<p>

Training new warriors was a time consuming ordeal, and officers were even rarer. the best the command could do was give Warson a new pilot, a young sergeant named Jean Emersol. The man showed promise, and was lighting fast in his locust, but that still left Warson with a whole new headache. For the time being, he was in charge of the Lance. For the last couple of months, Warson had trained his new lance as best he could, but he still felt unready. Moving through the bedroom, he quickly crossed into his small living room. Sitting down at his desk, he reviewed his e-mails. It was going to be a full day, and if he couldn't sleep, he might as well get to work.

Maria looked through the covers as Ren walked away. She had woke up when he moved from the bed, but she didn't want him to know she was awake. For the moment, she just wanted to see the man who she had come to rely on, not only as a leader, but as a friend and lover. He always seemed so serious and stern when he knew other people were watching. The only exceptions were when he was rushing into battle, in the throws of passion or when he thought that no one was looking. It was touching to see him like this and Maria didn't want to ruin it.

He was only a couple years older than her, 24 years standard in fact. But he had been a warrior since 16, moving through mud, blood and pain. That was probably one of the things that drew her to him, the way he was so stern and hard except during the moments when being human really mattered. She let him leave the room, and slowly drifted off back to sleep, smelling him in their sheets.

Atrues, June 19

Janos Marik rubbed at his eyes, trying to not show his frustration and exhaustion. He was in a staff planning session with his most trusted advisers going over plans to take the Free World League into with the Andurians were going nowhere fast and draining him of his his energy. He looked across the table at his aides, his son Thomas, nodding slightly in return.  
>He's shaping up well, Thomas thought. It was the right thing to bring him back from Comstar. Janos had recovered from his illness and returned to his duties. Thomas had filled in well in his stead, but the League still needed the steady, measured hand of the elder statesman.<br>His nephew, Duncan was also there, quietly observing and making few comments. He's sulking again, Marik was no secret that Duncan wanted the throne, but Janos denied him at every turn. Though he was a skilled pilot and unit commander, he was the wrong choice to lead the League. His sullenes at this moment only confirmed it to Janos.  
>At the moment, it was Thomas who was speaking, and most eyes in the room focused on the young man. They had just reviewed the success of the last series of raids into the Capellan systems. The risky missions had paid off, in that Liao had backed down and no longer made maneuvers to attack the League or Andurian. Now for the much more important matter of Andurian itself.<br>"Duchess Humphries continues to refuse to return her realm to the League. No one is doubting that he forces have taken a beating. In fact, her Mech forces are at best, 75 percent combat operational, and that includes raw recruits replacing their losses. She's going to bleed us dry in bringing her to heel."  
>Janos frowned in thought. While Catherine Humpries was always a painful thorn in his side, he had thought she would do what was best for her subjects. It would have been one thing if her forces had managed to take over the Capellan worlds, but now, every one knew that she was simply delaying the inevitable. No sooner had they begun debating their upcoming maneuvers, an orderly walked into the conference room. " Forgive me Gentlemen, but there is new information from Scarborough. The Nightriders have been repelled from Scarborough".<br>There was a collective sigh from the room as the announcement sank in. As a final act of defiance, Liao had sent several units as raiding forces into both the League and Andurian. The Nightrider's Regiment of the elite Macarron's Armored Cavalry was a particularly concerning element of the raids. News of their withdrawal was a burden off of everyone's shoulders.  
>"Captain General, Duncan stood up and addressed Janos. " I should get a detailed report on this before we get too far into the rest of the briefing". Accepting Janos's slight nod, the younger man and head of the Marik Militia walked briskly out of the room.<br>At least the boy can preform his assigned duties well, Janos mused. Of course, the problem is that he wants to assign himself more duties! Motioning for Thomas to continue, Marik listened as his advisers provided analysis, commentary and theories about where to start the re-conquest of Andurian. Though he paid rapt attention, Janos mostly felt tired.  
>Janos Marik was the oldest and longest serving of all the Successor Lords by far. He had survived plots, assassinations and civil war brought on by his own family. He simply wanted to rest, but knew that that was simply not a option. Thomas would be an excellent Captain General someday, but he had been a priest for too long. Janos knew the man needed some of the hard, sharpening lessons that serving on his staff would provide. As the meeting continued, Janos looked at the watch on his pinkey ring. Fifteen minutes had passed since Duncan had walked out of the room. While it would take a moment to get the information and comeback, it had been too long. Janos was beginning to feel uneasy. " I'm sorry Gentlemen, but we really should have the commander of our militia here. Thomas, please wait. Colonel Clark, go see where General Marik has gone to before we continue."<br>"Of course Sir." Colonel Clark, a steady but uninspiring leader moved from his position, motioning towards the door. Sending the officer after Duncan was a subtle reminder of who was in charge. Another move in the continuous game Janos had to play. As Clark moved across the room, Janos's unease only grew. This was wrong, Duncan was defiant, but he wouldn't try such a subtle move in showing Independence. Janos was on the verge of standing up himself when Colonel Clark reached the door. His hand twisted the knob, straining to open it. "That's strange". Thomas turned to look at his father, they both felt it. Janos was just about to shout a warning when the whole room filled with fire.

Duncan Marik stood on the podium, his uniform still torn and singed. His wounds had only received the barest medical attention. His calm demeanor in front of the cameras only solidified his persona of the weary, battered warrior, resolute in fulfilling his duties. He had already spoken for 10 minutes to the film crews in a speech that was sure to make its way through the League, indeed, the whole Inner Sphere within weeks. " And so, with heavy sorrow, I ask that the nation mourns with me as we accept the loss of one of the greatest leaders the League has ever known"_ Except for failing to keep his brother in check, fighting a single successful war or keeping that bitch Humphries in her place. _Duncan smirked to himself. Janos had been a great leader once, but time had worn him down. The old man was too stubborn to know that it was time for young blood to take over.  
>"I swear to you that this tragedy will not go unanswered, and that the guilty parties to this cowardly assassination will not escape justice." <em>Once I am done showing the "evidence"<em>. Duncan had been meticulous in setting up the bombing, down to how close he had to be to receive only superficial injuries from the blast. It wouldn't be long before the Andurians were implicated in the attack and his position as Captain General was assured. There was no way anyone would be acceptable to the people, not after this. " I ask that all of us, as one people stand united in this moment. We must not accept the evil of other men to dictate the measure of our resolve. The League is strong, stronger than one man, stronger than one moment. We will stand up from this dark day, strong er than ever. All that I ask is that you will stand with me!"

**well, I hope you liked the second chapter! Sorry for the delay in continuing this story, but real life interrupted. I will try to post bi monthly if not more often. I am trying to make this story follow not only the Cannon Battletech timeline, but also real world military doctrine and military life. For anyone who has an interest in the Andurian Crisis, may I recommend the book _Brush Wars _by Fan Pro and Wiz Kids. It really made that decade of warfare come alive and made me love the Free World Leagues.  
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**In any case, I would really like feedback, good or bad from folks. Let me know what you think. If no one provides any input, Ill figure folks just aint interest and move on to other things. But I would really like to see this through and give a story folks care about, so PLEASE POST! Thanks in advance.**


	3. Chapter 3

Dark Shadow's Fall

Chapter 3

Wendingo

Atreus System

September 4 3035

The Dark Shadow's old but comfortable lounge area had been requisitioned for the day. Several times, the occupants of the room had to turn away surprised and grumbling junior enlisted members who had hoped to use the game tables or open bar. What was going on today took far more precedence than their entertainment. Eventually, a couple of infantry men were posted in front to prevent further interruptions and one look at their serious faces sent anyone not invited packing. The occupants were just returning from a quick bathroom and smoke break, ready to continue the briefing and planning sessions. Capt Maersk leaned back in his seat at the head of poker table and glanced at the seven other individuals that constituted the core leadership of Specter Company, his company. His second in command and leader of Banshee Lance, 1st Lt Sharon Hotomori was just coming in, right behind SSgt Warson and laughing at something the enlisted man said. Maersk just heard the tail end of the conversation as they filtered in.

"No seriously Lieutenant, you CAN fit an elephant inside a Frugal-Way shopping bag."

"Alright Staff, how do you fit an elephant inside a shopping bag?" The young woman was chuckling already, knowing there was a set-up but not sure where".

"Well, first you got to take the 'F' out of Frugal, and then the 'F' out of Way". Warson kept his face deadpanned the entire time, calmly looking at the grinning lieutenant. Her almond colored skin wrinkled around her eyes for a moment in mock confusion.

"But there's no 'F' in Way-"

"Exactly". Warson's stoic face finally broke into a grin as they both sat down, the Lieutenant sitting down next to him and rolling her eyes at the corny joke. It was actually a rare talent of Hotomori, getting even normally stoic individuals to open up, and part of the reason Maersk valued her support as his XO. Warson wasn't normally a subdued man, but he had become quieter, almost brooding since his last drop. Maersk hoped that Hotomori would continue to open the man back up.  
>The rest of the staff came into the room, some heading to the bar and grabbing another beer, others sitting right down. The beer drinkers showed no shame in cracking open before noon, and non of their companions blinked an eye. Dark Shadows lived by the simple philosophy of to each their own until it came time to fight-then every man was expected to have his butt in gear. The last man to enter was 1st Sgt Charlie Rangel, the company 1st Sgt and highest enlisted man in Specter Co. He gave Capt. Maersk a nod, signifying that all of the required personnel were in attendance.<p>

Maersk stood up, looking over the individuals attending. In addition to the four Mechwarriors, the rest of the individuals present were just as critical to the company and its ability to wage war. Most folks with just a minimal understanding of war knew that a Mech lance had four pilots, but what most didn't think about was all of the support that those pilots relied on to do their jobs. Each Mech had a Tech assigned, with two additional astechs. The head of the 36 technicians for Specter Company was a stout, dark haired Lieutenant named Karen Sanders. Lt Sanders had a stern, almost disapproving demeanor, but knew her troops inside and out and their Mechs even better. She was actually the oldest person in the entire company, and could have retired if she hadn't accepted her commission, but as she had told Maersk once "These Mechs are the closest thing to kids I've ever had, I aint gonna make em orphans now".

The other officer in the room was Lt Marsden, the head of the infantry platoon attached to the Specters. He was the first man to grab a beer and sat down next to his senior enlisted, Sergeant First Class Canters. The two men eased back, gregarious and cynical as only grunts could be. Maersk decided it was time to get to business. "Alright folks, we all saw the same intel brief yesterday. We all understand what Captain General Duncan wants us to do. Its been a rough half year, but now we got a mission, and that mission is Shiro III. In one months time, the Atrean Dragoons are going to be hitting that planet and hitting it hard. This is not a feint, raid or probe, its the full shabang. But before they land, we're going to prep it for them. Any questions so far?"

"Yeah, what the hells a 'shabang'? Marsden smirked to polite laughter and winked at Maersk. Maersk simply rolled his eyes and pressed on.

"Three days before they land, we are going to start hitting several sites on the planet that should force the defenders to spread themselves out and wear them down. If you look at your packets that the Intel bubbas dropped off, you'll see a list of objectives. This is Spec Ops 101 folks-we'll hit what the enemy dosnt need, but what he cant leave undefended".

As the warriors and their support looked over the list and the map, they all took in what the Captain said. Warson frowed a little at the target list. None of the targets would violate the Ares Conventions, but there were some that were skirting them. Objective 03A was case in point. A power relay inside a small town on the central continent of Shiro. While hitting the hydro-electrical dam that fed the power relay would be a war crime, this power relay did not have any "Lostech" that humanity was slowly losing due to war. More importantly, it happened to provide power for half of the continents Air to Air radar towers. The fact that the town, hospitals and everything else in the immediate area also relied on the power station was just icing on the cake. The Andurians would have to put personnel and resources towards preventing riots, taking care of at risk citizens and running secondary power sources for their defenses-all things that would make the Dragoons attack that much easier in the long run.

Lt Sanders raised her hand, halting Maerk from continuing."Hmm, some of these objectives are spread out pretty well...normally for these sort of ops, we try to give you boys a central facility to run repairs." Lt Sandors frowned at the map, considering how to solve her own identified puzzle. " We cant do that for this one Sir, not without living boys making runs on the distance targets to far away to get a quick repair and refit."

Maersk smiled at the seasoned tech. This was one of the reasons why the Dark Shadows included support personnel in these sort of briefings. Many conventional units would make their plans and leave it up to the 'beans and bandages' crews to figure it out. The Shadows however knew that a Lance lived or died by its support.

"Thanks for bringing that up Lt. I was thinking along the same lines. Normally, we like to work in a spider web pattern to keep the enemy guessing about where we are hitting next. If we worked a half clock pattern, say twelve to six clockwise before going twelve to six counter-clockwise, could you guys move your support location?"

"We would be exposed briefly while in transit, but yes Sir, that could work..."Sanders paused for a minute to deliberate internally. The woman never hurried in though when it came to her job. Some thought it was because she was simple minded, but those folks were typically fools. She was a simple woman in lifestyle, but she thought about the various ins and outs of her job in ways that would tie most peoples' brains in knots. "Actually, long term, that exposes us less than constantly having to move to repair damaged mechs, which we all know would happen anyways...I'll get with you later and we'll pre-plan staging points."

"GTG Chief" Maersk nodded, using the lead Tech's common nickname. "Now, on to the next point-primary objectives vice secondary. For sake of this job, I think quantity has a quality all of its own. We should get the Andurians more flustered by hitting multiple locations with a moderate amount of damage than we would get hitting a few targets with significant damage-any dissenters to that"?As the meeting wore on into the afternoon, every member had his or her say. Plans and counter-plans were thrown back and forth, as were japes, insults and innuendos. Beers were downed, and minds stretched. All in all a normal planning session for Specter Company.

Shiro III, Andurian

October 3, 3035

1930 Hrs.

The sky above Shiro's central continent was its usual clear self this time of year. The rugged, heavily forested hills and valleys that filled up the country side provided a clear view of the night sky. A casual stargazer would have seen the usual constellations that filled up his sky. The curving set of stars that made up the Scimitar. The comforting, never moving, off-centered 'X' , known as the Archer, that was the friend of nocturnal travels ever since man stepped foot on this planet also stood in his usual place in the heavens. At this time of year, night fell early, but it was still warm enough that anyone who cared could have watch the sky well into the evening. This night, just briefly, there was a new constellation.

Three new stars lit up the heavens, growing brighter in the darkness. Just as soon as they appeared, what looked like four smaller stars sprouted forth, falling quicker than the rest. Anyone who was used to the centuries of continuous warfare would quickly have realized that those stars were not celestial visitors from the night sky. Rather than stars, these were shadows, and they were heralds of war. Warson quickly clutched his gyroscope controls in, bringing his plunging Grasshopper to an upright position. Reaper lance was coming in hot, ready to defend the rest of Specter Company's drop zone. Firing off his jump jets at the last 200 meters, his mech came to a heavy, but acceptable landing. Quickly scanning his immediate surroundings, Warson flexed his jaw, opening up his mic to the rest of his lance. "Reapers, report"

"Reaper Actual, this is Reaper 2, landing complete and sector secured," Polls's voice floated into Warson's speakers. Warson's callsign was 'Actual' as the head of the lance, the rest of the members were Reapers 2-4. The other members of the team likewise radioed their successful landing and lack of enemy presence in their zones of control. "Alright Reapers, follow on forces landing in ten minutes. You know your patrol points. Push out 500 meters and report in findings." As the rest of the lance rogered up, Warson pushed his mech forward. As the lance with the lightest net weight and fastest machines, Reaper lance was typically assigned reconnaissance duty. The two Hermes IIs and locust were tailor made for it, and his Grasshopper could be surprisingly quick with its four jump jets. If there was a threat, the Reapers would find it before Banshee or Reaper Lance had to deal with it. Interstellar war was a peculiar thing. Unless it was a key world, few planets had the in depth radar facilities to track a few dropships landing in a random location. While it was almost certain the Andurians knew the Dark Shadows had arrived inside the system, it was doubtful they knew precisely where they had landed. Even more, the defenders instruments most likely gave an estimate for the force that was now invading their world, but there was no way to know exacts. Either way, Reaper lance would make sure any potential defender wouldn't get the first shot on the raid force.

Sergeant Polls moved his Hermes II forward through the dense trees surrounding the clearing that was soon to be filled with dropships. He was piloting by instrument and feel as much as by what he viewed outside his cockpit. Everywhere he scanned, his left hand flamer followed, a much more potent weapon in these close in quarters than his chest mounted autocannon could be. The Hermes II was a robust, heavy scout mech, tailor made for this sort of operation. Few things could hide from his Wasat Aggressor targeting computer and whatever he found, short of a heavier Mech, he could quickly dispatch. If he did run into something bigger, he could quickly get away and meet up with the rest of the Reapers. The landing zone was divied up into a four-way circle, each of the Reaper Mechs covering a quarter. Polls was moving east, scanning roughly five to six oclock. Warson was directly behind him, leaving Cerillios to his right and Emersol to his left. As the four mechs searched for any possible threat, they maintained clipped, focused reports.

"Reaper 3 here", the light voice of Cerillios broke open over the com system. " There's no good trails here, that must have changed since the last satellite pic. Anything smaller than Reaper 4 is gonna get stuck pretty bad".  
>Warson's voice came through, the man's deep, tobacco-scarred voice a stark contrast to Cerillios's lighter tone. "Roger Reaper 3, keep scanning, there's still enough cover there that PBI or scout Mechs could get the drop on us."<p>

As the loyalist Andurian reached the limit of his patrol route, he crouched his Mech down, lowering its 40-ton body effortlessly to the loamy soil as he settled his machine, the night sky grew increasingly bright behind him. The Specters had landed, unopposed and ready to move. It would take almost a half hour for the other 8 mechs, the 2 APCs and light tanks of the infantry, and the 4 vehicles of the support platoon to disembark and be ready to move. The Reapers would stay in their positions, being sure to prevent any surprises.

As he waited, Polls absentmindedly fingered with the small cloth bag around his neck. Inside were various tokens he collected over the years. It was a tradition from his homeworld and a tradition common to Andurians. Outsiders might question how the special force battalion would trust a man from the renegade duchy, but they would be quickly corrected. Not by Polls himself, he seldom felt the need to defend himself, but by the rest of Specter Company. A sharp word, or more rarely a sharp hook would shut down anyone who thought they could question the loyalty of the small, quiet man.

Captain Maersk looked out from the cockpit of his Marauder-M varient. THe hulking, crab like 75-ton monster carried two Particle Cannons mounted above a medium laser in each arm. Above the elongated torso of his mech, his large laser swept left to right and back. Banshee Lance was moving out to the south, with the matching pairs of Maxim and Harasser hovertanks of Ghost Platoon followed. Specter Lance was going to take up the rear of the formation, moving to their first relay point 50 Klicks away.  
>The support Platoon with their support vehicles and two gun trucks would stay with the dropship, ready to respond when the need came. In the meanwhile, the soldiers of the platoon were helping the dropship crews camouflage the four vessels that brought them here. The Leopard and one Fury Class Dropships had excellent firepower, but they were sitting ducks to a potential Aerospace attack. Hopefully, they would last the next three days without being detected. "Alright Banshee Actual, keep it to 40 klicks and keep a 1 klick distance from the flankers".<p>

"Roger Specter, if they let anything through, whatever comes by wont be happy". Hatomori moved her lance forward, taking the lead in her Wolverine. The rest of her lance followed, a Hunchback, Shadow Hawk and Ostroc moving in a staggered formation. It was a lot of firepower, and more than enough backup for Reaper Lance, still conducting a patrol around the rest of the unit. It would be a long hard night of movement to their first relay point, but in the morning, the company would be in position to hit their first set of targets. The defenders wouldnt see it coming and the Specters struck, they would strike hard and fade away quicker then the Andurians could respond. Maersk would have prefered striking at Capellans, Lyrans or anyone other than fellow Free World Leaguers, but Andurian had made its choice. IT chose war, and the Dark Shadows were going to be the deliverers of its punishments.

**Hey Folks, thanks again for reading this. I know the last two chapters were slow, but fear not, the next update will have all the Mech sized destruction you could ask for. I wanted to get this chapter out quickly so I could focus on staging the next battle, so I hope you enjoyed. Again, please shoot me some feedback. What you like, what you dont, its all good. Even if your only input is "Hey dude, not bad".**


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